


A fond exchange

by ChocoNut



Series: Tales of love (Season 3/4) [42]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: After 4x4, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Can be book canon also, F/M, Fluff, Love Letters, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:49:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27617215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: I dreamed of you,he begins directly, no greeting, nothing else to precede it,not just that once at Harrenhal, my lady, but many nights after.ORThe one where Jaime slips Brienne a letter when he bids her goodbye at King’s Landing.Edit : Added Chapter 2 (a happy ending)
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Tales of love (Season 3/4) [42]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1483640
Comments: 38
Kudos: 139





	1. Chapter 1

“The mare,” says a voice behind her—one she had not thought she’d ever hear again after last night, and she turns around, surprised. “I hope she is to your satisfaction, my lady.”

“She’s—” _far from homely,_ is the first thing that comes to her mind, but Brienne refrains from spilling it out. “She’s easy on the eye,” she settles for, instead.

A blink of those emerald eyes is the only acknowledgement she gets. “I hope the other arrangements are to your satisfaction as well.”

A knot forming in her chest, she nods. “I can’t thank you enough for everything.”

“I did nothing.” He halts, clears his throat when his voice comes out all hoarse and lacking its usual smoothness. “In fact, I—” He stalls, glances at her pretty mount, then back at her, and the rest of it remains a mystery.

And Brienne suddenly feels a pinch within her, his unexpected arrival filling her with a reluctance to leave. “You came here to—”

“—make sure you have everything you need.” He approaches her with the reticence she’s all too familiar with. “Given that our meeting didn’t turn out quite well last night, I thought—” Again, he wanders off mid-way, eyes wandering to their surroundings before returning to her.

“Goodbye, Ser Jaime,” she says, a tightness she’s never felt before clutching her throat.

He doesn’t return her courtesy with words, instead, he takes her hand, and venturing where no man has ever gone before, bows slightly and brings it to his lips. “My lady,” he murmurs into her skin, gently kissing her knuckles as his gaze caresses her eyes. He holds on to her for a precious few timeless seconds, speaking more through this one look than he’s ever done before. Taunts and mockery and insults—his words have been rarely more than that, but this—whatever _this_ is, she has a feeling, is going to live with her long after she’s gone, going far beyond anything they’ve ever shared.

A bitter-sweet moment this is, and the deeper Brienne drowns in those eyes, the more she wishes for her life to be simpler than it is.

“I—I’m no lady,” is all she has for him.

“You are,” he replies, rising to his height, her hand still in his custody. “ _My_ lady.”

Just as abruptly as he’d drawn her into this strange little gesture, he lets go, but not before he slips a little note into her palm. “I’ll be waiting,” he whispers, and when she looks blankly at him, unsure what to make of it, he gestures to the piece of parchment. “Let me know, Brienne.”

Those are his parting words, but he lingers there, stays to watch as she makes it to the sweetest mare she’s set eyes on. It’s not a long walk, just a few feet away, but enough for her to spy on the letter, enough to quench her curiosity. A few sentences scribbled away in his untrained hand—for a man gifted with the sting of a tongue, this is far fewer than the fewest she can imagine.

 _I dreamed of you,_ he begins directly, no greeting, nothing else to precede it, _not just that once at Harrenhal, my lady, but many nights after._

She pauses, ponders his claim, and when she skims through it again, she knows he isn’t jesting or exaggerating.

 _It is my wish to turn this into more than a beautiful dream,_ he goes on, and she can almost hear it in his voice, feel him tugging at her heart.

_The Kingslayer and his wench—what do you think? Doesn’t sound bad to me, at least. But only if you—if you feel the same. And if you do, maybe one day when circumstances ease out—_

He stops there. A prickling sensation bothering the corners of her eyes, she closes her fist around the letter. He’s said it all—everything she’s never imagined she’d hear from him. 

She blinks back her emotions, then turns to see if he’s still there.

And he is, his eyes, cautious, as if reading her face for a reaction.

 _Yes,_ says her heart, though her lips move in no more than a smile.

When he raises his hand to wave her goodbye, her heart becomes tonnes lighter, and when she waves back, she’s struck by both, a crushing ache in her chest and a rush of hope that washes over her. When she tears away her gaze to move on, she can see into the distance a life that is beyond this quest.

Once more, she turns to look at him when she begins to ride away.

And again.

And just one more time after that.

Long after he’s no more than a speck in the distance, she returns to the letter, and this time, she notices one last line she’d overlooked before.

_Should you say yes, father isn’t the only one who’ll be elated with your reply._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


*****

  
The raven arrives when he’s least expecting it.

The letter bears no name, just a rough seal, but Jaime knows, he can sense from the pleasant jolt in his belly and the sudden racing of his heart that it is her. When he unfolds it, it flows down in the same pattern he’d written to her.

 _I’m quite flattered to be a frequent visitor in your dreams,_ she opens with, and Jaime can’t help grinning like a young squire in love for the very first time. 

However, when he comes across the _‘but’_ she follows it up with, he takes a deep breath, pauses. Did he mis-read her? Is it going to be a rejection?

_—the knight and his lady—sounds much better, don’t you think?_

“ _Warrior_ lady,” he chuckles in relief. He’s taken back to their duel, to those skills far superior to most knights he’s known. “Not just any ordinary warrior but an uncrowned knight.”

 _You’re not the Kingslayer anymore,_ she writes on, and he can see those words come alive in her expressive eyes. _So don’t you dare call yourself that ever again. Unless you want me to haunt your dreams, rebuking you in the most scalding way possible._

“I don’t want that, of course.” He smiles to himself, recalling how horrible her reprimands can be, then returns to the note, goes back to the shift in tone the next line carries.

_Yes._

That’s all there is. Just one word, but so much happiness this little gift fills him with that he’s worried he might explode.

And then, there is the end _—_

_Your lady,_

_Brienne._

_His_ lady. Like he’s been dreaming of. But there’s something else further down. Just like he’d done in his love letter, she has a closing line for him.

_My father would be elated, too. And you know quite well he won’t be the only one._

“I’ve never seen you smiling to yourself like this before!”

Jaime looks up from her parting message to greet his father. “I’ve had no reason to until now.”

Eyes the same as his, only more inquiring, more interrogating, look him over, scan his face to try and translate his emotions. “Would you care to explain?” his father asks, glancing suspiciously at the letter.

Jaime looks down at the parchment in his hand, then at his father again. “She just said yes,” he whispers, overwhelmed.

His lord father welcomes his vague explanation with a broad smile and an affectionate arm around his shoulders. “I can’t wait to hear all about it, son,” he says, those aged eyes shining with far more than elation. “All about _her_.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet, talk, and it all, of course, ends well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted a sort-of epilogue because, well, I needed closure :)
> 
> While this happens on Tarth, I've left the "when" part of it open-ended.

“Father is quite satisfied with my choice of bride,” he tells her, when they finally get a few moments to themselves.

“I doubt it.” Brienne can’t help smiling at this change in him. There was a time when criticism was all he had for her—blatant and naked and as much as he could stab her with it, but now—now he’s trying his best to shield her from it, to hide what he can and present a pleasanter picture of what might not have been so. “Your father would’ve had big plans for you, beautiful dreams—”

“ _You_ are my beautiful dream, my lady,” Jaime stops her, and taking her hand, leads her for a stroll along the seaside. “And father knows better than to crush it, knows it is now or never, that there can be no other.” 

“I heard you were once intended for Lysa Arryn,” she remembers, returns to how Cersei had bragged once, rather subtly threatened her that no woman in this whole wide world could snatch Jaime from her.

His eyes tell her what she wants to hear. “I’m glad that didn’t work out, though the reasons for my relief were different then.”

“Your father also did wish for you to wed Lady Margaery, didn’t he?” Hushed whispers, rumours among the castle staff, she’d heard, that the young widow might be betrothed to her departed husband’s uncle. “A woman matching you in beauty and—” 

“Another failed attempt.” Jaime caresses her knuckles. “And I’m glad for that too… and glad that—” he steps away from the rest of what he means to say, but Brienne can read it on his face, can see his heart in his eyes. “That filthy pen in Riverrun—that was the best thing that happened to me, Brienne.”

“Now you’re just exaggerating,” she waves him off, though her stomach has begun a mirthful little dance within. 

“Am I?” His gaze leaves on a journey of its own, far away, in time and more. “Life takes unexpected turns, at times, and—” his mind returns, joins hers again “—sometimes, for a lucky few, what is least expected can turn out to be the best.”

High up among the clouds, though she’s floating, there’s something she needs to know. “You still haven’t told me about your father’s reaction.” 

“When I told him about you, all he had for me was one condition.”

She freezes to a halt, and he follows suit. A bit deflated, she tries not to frown, not to get her spirits too low. “That I give up my sword and take up a needle?”

He smiles, glances down to study the numerous little cuts and calluses on her palm. “These hands may take up whatever they please,” he says. “The decision lies with you, my lady. It always will.”

Convinced by his assurance, yes, but she’s still confused, unable to look further than a demand like this. “What does Lord Tywin wish for, then?”

“Heirs—” his grip presses into her hand “—he was quite keen to know if you’re fit enough to—” He takes in her warm cheeks, and his eyes twinkling, goes on, “You do want—”

“I do,” she replies, her heart soaring as her mind conjures a pretty picture of a life she’d never thought she could have. A wife, a mother—this is overwhelming, but this will soon be real. 

“Father can’t wait any longer, wench.” His eyes lose their glint of mischief, piercing her with a blazing intensity. “He’s eager for me to bring this lovely dream to life.”

“So is mine,” she breathes, slowly succumbing to his charm.

“Lord Selwyn—” he examines her face, as if trying to pick out what happened “—does he really approve of me—given what my life has been?”

“He didn’t, at first.”

Jaime nods, sighs heavily. “The Kingslayer, of course. Who, in their sane minds, would readily give me their daughter?” he says, dejected, resigned. “What did you say to convince him?”

“That there are no men like you.” Their hands still locked together, she brings them to his cheek, presses warm against his skin. “Only _you_.”

He leans into her touch, brushes his lips to her wrist. “That was my arrogance.”

“But this is my faith, my—” she sniffs, brings her other hand to his heart “—my love.” 

“And I won’t let you down,” he whispers, the words traveling deep into her, through every vein, every nerve, straight to the core of her being. “ _Ever_.”

“Jaime—”

“I love you, Brienne.” The waves rise to his words, lap up the shore, caress their feet as he tenderly strokes her hand, the swishing of the sea, the voice of the gods blessing this union. “The sword or a needle, whatever you wish to pick, be it a dress you wish to don or an armour, you are mine for what you are, my lady—” his eyes moisten with a shine she’s never seen before “—and I am yours.” 

This time, it is no goodbye, but the start of something wonderful.

And this time, it is not just her hand he kisses.

**Author's Note:**

> Can be book AU or Show AU, however you choose to interpret it.  
> Thank you for visiting yet another post from me :)


End file.
